


Chickadee Blues

by versigny



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Comfort Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-11
Updated: 2017-03-11
Packaged: 2018-10-02 19:08:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10225091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/versigny/pseuds/versigny
Summary: Strange how things came to this.





	

Strange how things came to this.

Huddled in an oversized hoodie in the rain, you rocked your weight back and forth on your feet in front of the entrance to the building, waiting nervously for the door to open. You were shivering from anxiety and cold but your cheeks were flushed and the squinty smile of Soonyoung kept you afloat and cognizant and not deciding to cry in bed for hours.

Footsteps echoed down the residence hall and the door burst open with a bang.

“Hey you,” the sweet voice greeted, and suddenly you weren’t half as chilly. You smiled back automatically – he kind of had a way of doing that – and as his gaze combed your very pathetic form it softened into something that might have been worry.

“Sorry,” you sighed as he half-dragged you inside. You’d already apologized for this – like you did every other time – but he just planted a hand over your mouth and rubbed it as if to silence you and bury the words back into your mouth.

“ _Stop_ ,” he insisted. “I don’t mind. I never mind.”

Funny how things came to this.

Soonyoung lived at the end of the hall in a dorm where Wonwoo could never be found on the weekends. It was easy telling their sides of the room apart – Wonwoo’s monochrome and neutrals, sparse and minimalist spare the plethora of books; Hoshi’s messy explosion of comfy blankets and posters and a mini fridge covered in word magnets and letters that just said GAY DICK FUCK COCK CUMMIES followed by _never get so attached to a poem you forget truth: it lacks lyricism_.

You had anxiety. Aggravating, awful, stressful anxiety – the kind that spiked before tests and left you inconsolable. One extremely unexpected hookup and late-to-class-walk-of-shame later, you learned that physical intimacy was an equally unexpected cure for it.

The bright blue glow of the clock on the nightstand read 1:03 a.m. and just as it ticked to 1:04 you were laying on a bed with a too-warm, unyielding body on top of you. Soonyoung hummed and purred as he wasted no time; he nuzzled any exposed skin he could reach in the process of peeling off your damp clothes, licking and sucking at the rainwater and running the tip of his nose along your jawline. The overload of sensations had you gasping and shivering, dizzy from overstimulation. He wasn’t hasty though; just eager. Just always enthusiastically ready to bite red marks into your collarbone and fuck you relentlessly in his too-small bed.

“Hosh,” you spluttered, “I– wait–”

“Don’t wanna,” his muffled voice hissed back into your hipbone as he dragged off your underwear. When the scent of your arousal hit him, he groaned and you blushed. The stupid boy never gave _you_  a chance to do anything, it felt like. It was always him ravishing you, him driving you up the wall, him forcing you through four orgasms and leaving you shaking and hardly able to stand or speak properly afterwards. After all this time, you felt – well, not obligated, not at all. You _wanted_  badly, desperately to experience the pleasure of doing those things to _him_. That was all.

Swallowing thickly, you sucked in a breath as you felt his mouth over you, and then it was there, tongue parting your wet lips and dipping inside of you. His teeth grazed your swollen clit in a single throb of pleasure that made you twitch up involuntarily, giving up just enough room to sneak his hands under you and grab your ass, dragging you closer to him. The position allowed him freedom to fuck you with his tongue, groan against your folds, and the vibrations combined with the obscene feeling of him inside of you like that had you already wound up to a point of no return.

And then again. And then again. And then again.

The rain had settled into a drizzle when you couldn’t take it anymore and were simply too tired to move an inch. Soonyoung, as usual and still somehow full of energy, grabbed a washcloth and carefully cleaned you up before sliding you into a pair of clean boxers and a t-shirt.

“There you go,” you heard him whisper in the darkness. “That’s much better.”

He had no idea. Inwardly, your heart was doing somersaults and you half-considered crying out of sheer relief and happiness. In the afterglow you couldn’t pretend you probably weren’t head-over-heels in love with the stupid theatre major.

But you could worry about that later. In the meantime, he was sneaking under the covers with you, wrapping himself around you like a cocoon, like something safe and warm and not a cute boy that had just eaten you out and fingered you and made you cum four times.

“I like you,” you managed to get out by way of a goodnight, voice cracking in the process.

You felt him smile against the crown of your head, and he squeezed you tighter, leg thrown comfortably over yours.

“Goodnight, chickadee,” he murmured, quiet and lovely.

He would have to content himself with this much. It was too good a night for him to ruin it by telling you he loved you.


End file.
